


The Hallway Scene

by cherylbarrel



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Crushes, Early stages of their relationship, F/F, I'm going to try to rewrite some of these scenes, add more context to them, choni are so soft, choni deleted scenes, the hallway scene, toni's perspective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-23 13:12:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15607029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherylbarrel/pseuds/cherylbarrel
Summary: “Good morning, Cheryl,” you hum.You have some books in the arm closest to her, and you subtly move them over to the other side so that your hand dangles down between you, just barely touching hers. The irresistible urge inside of you to reach out and hold her hand is practically suffocating. It truly feels as if you’re fighting against muscle memory, like it’s a normal part of your basic routine to hold this girl’s hand.The deleted choni hallway scene, but with more context.





	The Hallway Scene

**Author's Note:**

> who else is having a gay panic attack rn over the choni scenes?

You’re walking down the halls of Riverdale High. You haven’t been here for more than a few weeks, but already everything feels different. Like the way you quickly pat Sweet Pea’s shoulder in passing, or shoot a lazy smile in Fangs’ direction before hurrying your feet to catch up with a certain red haired beauty that has been on your mind constantly since you’ve arrived. 

That never used to be you. The type of person who ditched their friends to chase after a girl. In fact, you pride yourself on being loyal to a fault. Even if it made you roll your eyes in the eighth grade, when Fangs entered a Harry Potter phase, and eagerly sorted you as a hufflepuff. 

Even now, it’s not like you’ll ever truly ditch your friends. As a serpent, you’re under an oath not to, after all. And you would never want to. The serpents are your brothers, and you’d stand by them always, but the thing is, you aren’t in eighth grade anymore, you aren’t content to spend all your evenings fooling around with Sweet Pea and Fangs. You’re older now, and a certain…attraction pulls you in a much different direction than your gross, brother-like best friends. 

That attraction goes by the name of Cheryl Blossom. 

She’s an ethereal creature, with her long, smooth legs, her silky hair resembling the burning glow of fire, and her perfectly painted ruby coloured lips that fit so effortlessly between her teeth in a way that has you growing weak in your knees. Cheryl’s the prettiest girl you’ve ever seen, and it drives you crazy just as much as it blankets your heart in a comforting squeeze every time you see her. She’s the kind of girl that makes you want to rip your hair out, but at the same time she’s the kind of of girl you see yourself settling down with, growing old next to her on some porch, watching your grandchildren run around on the lawn. 

You’ve had crushes before. You’ve had almost every crush imaginable, from the boy next door, to the rebellious bad girl. You’ve kissed people, and you’ve held their hands, and you’ve smiled when you saw them coming your way, but you have never, ever felt the way you feel when you’re around Cheryl. She’s special, she’s a one of a kind, and when you chase after her in the school halls it’s not because she has you under her spell of lust, but because your heart aches to just be with this girl, perfectly willing to not ask for anything from her, as long as you get to see her smile, you’ll be content. 

Today isn’t any different. 

You see her from a mile away, walking down the hallway with her usual confident persona firmly in place. 

She looks really good. It has you holding your breath when you first catch a glimpse of her. She’s wearing white today. Well, that’s not entirely true. She still has plenty of red hugging her flawless skin too. A pair of high waisted, red shorts cling to her hips, and a thin, red choker wraps around her neck to match. Her shirt is white though, and she wears the colour well. Something about white makes Cheryl look softer, and you find yourself mesmerized over the new revelation. 

She’s walking down the hall, and you’re already closing your locker in preparation to join her. You don’t even know yet if she would have asked you to join, if she even wants you to walk alongside her. Your heart makes the choice for the both of you, but you figure it was the right choice when she gets closer and you see a smile light up her face. Not her usual hbic smile either, this one is genuine. This smile screams real happiness, the kind of smile that creeps up on you before you even realize you’re giving in to the change of expression. 

You fall into step with her easily. Her legs are longer but the two of you find a way to match each other’s paces perfectly, practically mimicking the steps each of you take. 

You smile at her, light and a little teasing, just because your relationship with Cheryl has always been playful, perhaps having to do with the fact you started as rivals before friends. She smiles back but the only thing that changes is her eyes meeting yours. The smile was already there. 

“TT,” she greets fondly, and you aren’t sure if you, her, or the both of you move closer, but now your shoulders are brushing and neither of you make any move to lean away. 

“Good morning, Cheryl,” you hum. 

You have some books in the arm closest to her, and you subtly move them over to the other side so that your hand dangles down between you, just barely touching hers. The irresistible urge inside of you to reach out and hold her hand is practically suffocating. It truly feels as if you’re fighting against muscle memory, like it’s a normal part of your basic routine to hold this girl’s hand. Not only to hold her hand but to walk her to class, and leave a kiss on her cheek before you part ways, only to meet up once again in the lunch room, and throw an arm around her shoulders and pull her into your chest. 

If someone asked you when the hell did the thought of being Cheryl Blossom’s girlfriend become so normal, you wouldn’t know what to tell them. 

One day you’re squaring up against this girl, feeling rage bubble in your chest, partly for the way she looks down at you and your friends, and partly because it isn’t fair that such a bitch could be this beautiful, and the next day, you want to seal the deal and make her yours. 

Well, perhaps you do know. As difficult of a person Cheryl appeared to be in the early days of your acquaintance, you always had a curious attraction towards her that left you wanting more of her venomous bite. 

As time went on, and you saw softer, more vulnerable sides to this bewildering enigma of a person, the attraction you held for her only grew. 

“It certainly is,” Cheryl agrees, a certain wickedness to her tone. The inflection in her voice as you equal parts concerned as it does turned on. You shake those thoughts out of your head though, because until further notice, Cheryl’s your friend, and if that’s what she wants you to be, than you’ll happily be the bestest friend you can be, with as minimal thoughts of what else this gorgeous girl can do with her mouth, as possible. 

“I have to admit, Blossom, I always pegged you as one of those insane morning people, but there seems to be something else going on here?” You question carefully, just as the two of you reach Cheryl’s lockers and the red-haired beauty begins entering in her lock combo. 

“Firstly,” Cheryl wets her lips, “you shouldn’t assume things TT, if you’re really so curious to witness my early morning behaviour, we can always arrange that.” 

You lean against the lockers beside her with a smirk, and a small shake of your head. You always admired how easily she’s able to keep up with the playful back and forth thing you have going on. You typically engage in harmless teasing with everyone you encounter, but that doesn’t necessarily mean everyone is up for being such a willing participant. However, Cheryl seems to have no problems keeping you on your toes. 

“Is that an invitation to spend the night, Blossom?” You take a calculated step towards her, causing her to step back ever so slightly herself, “Or am I just supposed to just sneak into your room in the morning, maybe crawl through a window or something?” 

Cheryl grabs her AP chemistry book, and then promptly shuts her locker before turning around and leaning against it, giving you her full attention. 

“As tempting as a sleepover with you sounds, my horrendous mother would never allow it,” Cheryl frowns, her demeanour shifting immediately when the topic of Penelope comes up. 

You swear if you ever get the chance to hurt that woman without the threat of jail time hanging over your head, you will. Watching the sheer control she has over her daughter destroys you a little bit more and more every time you see Cheryl doubt herself or push you away due to the insecurities her mother so carefully crafted. 

“We’ll come back to that window thing though,” she then adds, shifting the mood between you, realizing that now was not the time nor place to delve deeper into her damaged psyche caused by her mother. 

You chuckle, and when Cheryl pushes herself off her locker to start walking again you happily follow. 

“I like the sound of that,” you tease. 

“As I was saying before,” Cheryl glazes over, lazily rolling her eyes at your previous words, “I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone this because it’s hush hush, but you don’t count.” 

Whatever’s about to come out of Cheryl’s mouth next, you can tell it’s probably going to be important. But the problem is, your arms have started brushing against each other’s again, and she’s lightly bumping into your shoulder every couple of steps, and It’s distracting. She’s so close to you, so warm and inviting. Fuck, she even smells good. Her iconic scent of maple and cherries wafting off of her, an entirely too sweet combo, but just as enticing all the same. 

“My murdering father’s will is being read, and I’m certain to inherit a sizeable nest egg,” Cheryl continues, her words spoken so casually as if she’s talking about nothing more than a school project, or a memorable movie she saw last weekend. 

You haven’t even known Cheryl all that long, but you do know that something about the way she easily mentions her dead family members in passing, as if they’re a mere afterthought in a sea of much more meaningful topics, is concerning. You know she can’t actually be so unaffected by that traumatic detail of her life, even if it is just one traumatic detail amongst many, many others, it’s quite a sizeable one. You figure it’s a subpar attempt at a coping mechanism, and know you have no right to judge the things other people do to move past all the fucked up shit in their lives. You’re no stranger to a half assed coping mechanism yourself, and if this is how Cheryl chooses to deal with half her family being dead, who are you to stop her. 

“Wanna come witness my phoenix like rise from the depths of poverty?” Cheryl asks suddenly, catching you off guard for a moment. You were doing your best to keep up with her rapid fire speech, while simultaneously processing your inquisitive thoughts for all things Cheryl Blossom, that you weren’t prepared to start speaking. 

Regardless, it’s not like the question warranted much preparation in the first place. 

A chance to spend more time with Cheryl would always be something you’d agree to, even if it meant venturing deep into the northside and surrounding yourself in a room filled with pompous Blossom descendants, all looking to snatch up even more wealth to add to their name.

That’s never something you thought you’d be willing to do a few months ago, or even a few weeks ago for that matter. Just another part of you that has changed since coming to this school, since meeting Cheryl, since falling in—no. You aren’t in love with her. 

But you could be. 

“Hell yeah, I’m in,” you tell her, soaking up the way her smile turns bashful and she moves her gaze down to the ground briefly. 

The simple act of another person accepting her invitation, is truly a foreign concept to Cheryl, and when you so effortlessly agree, as if any other outcome wasn’t even a possibility, her heart swells in her chest with the knowledge that someone is actually choosing to spend time with her for no other reason than to spend time with her. 

Her mother wasn’t behind this, bribing you with promises of making your dreams come true for simply accompanying her daughter on a date. This is all you, and it’s all for her. 

“Perfect,” Cheryl clears her throat, standing back up straight, and doing her best to hide just what your acceptance means to her. This was school after all, these walls might as well be the walls to Cheryl’s castle, and as the Queen, she can’t let her subjects see even an ounce of weakness in her. 

“I’ll text you the details,” she continues, just as the two of you reach Cheryl’s first class of the day. 

Your class is in a different hall, and you’re probably going to be late, but you don’t care. An extra couple minutes with the girl that makes you feel alive in a way no serpent mission or raging party ever could is worth it.

Parties and serpent missions make you feel alive with adrenaline and cheap booze, lifting you up for a few hours before you crash in exhaustion and return to the stress and turmoils of being a teenager, but being around Cheryl makes you feel alive in a way like you’re actually living. Not just numbly dragging yourself out of bed every morning in order to complete a lacklustre, never ending routine, but actually living. Cheryl Blossom gives your life purpose, and you don’t know how she managed to do that in just a couple weeks, but you’ll forever be grateful. 

“You better,” you smile, standing outside the classroom door as Cheryl lingers next to you. Other students move around the both of you to go inside, but something keeps Cheryl standing there, looking at you with a subtle, inner conflict swimming in her eyes. 

“Cher?” you ask, tilting your head at the girl. As the seconds tick by you’re only getting later for class, but to be honest, the thought completely escapes your mind. 

She has to lean down a little to reach you, and your breath catches in your throat as you feel her soft lips on your cheek. Cheryl kisses you, and honestly you’re glad it’s just your cheek because you think you might have passed out otherwise. 

When she pulls away she looks so unsure of herself and incredibly sheepish, such a stark comparison to the headstrong, dominant Queen she pretends to be. The Queen of Riverdale High was no match for a school girl crush. 

“See you later, Toni,” she says, before ducking into the classroom and not giving you a chance to respond. 

“See you,” you breathe anyway, even though your words fall on deaf ears. 

The second bell rings, singling that all students should be in class by now, but you’re still standing there like a fool, in the middle of the hallway. The feeling of Cheryl’s lips is still tingling on your cheek, and you’re already thinking about walking Cheryl to class again tomorrow in hopes she’ll do it again. 

You’re not in love with her, but god, you could be.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed this! it was just something quick i wrote up bcuz watching the deleted scenes gave me a ton of inspiration. i might do some more one shots with the other scenes if this motivation thing keeps up.


End file.
